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Arrived a few minutes early for my luncheon date with newest gal pal and erstwhile sister-in-law, Girly (am beginning to suspect friends and family members of falsifying rendezvous times in blatant attempt to ensure punctuality on my part), and as such (early) found myself with a spot of free time on my hands. Never one to waste an opportunity to peruse the latest fashion mags, I hauled a slew of them from my roomy tote, grabbed a booth, ordered a Diet Coke with lemon and got to work. Was deep into the latest Victoria's Secret catalog (absolutely love Angels IPEX demi-bra--totally obliterates 'headlights'--and pondering purchase of coordinating bikini and/or lacy boy briefs) when a high-pitched, strident voice blasted over my shoulder,
"Eeeewww! Nothing but ladies underpants! How gross! Why would you want to look at that?"
Turned around and was nose-to-nose with a freckle-faced grade schooler hanging over the back of my booth and his horrified mother. Was preparing for a verbal dressing down by outraged parental unit when, luckily, scene was averted by the arrival of trés stylish Girly and her directive to little Nosy Parker to "turn around and eat your french fries," and her admonition to visibly outraged parental unit, "Children are meant to sit on the seats, preferably facing forward -- this isn't Chuck E. Cheese." She then dismissed them with a final stare-down, greeted me with the double air-kiss thingy (so chic) and slid gracefully into the seat across from me.
Love my visits with Girly! She's out here on business every few weeks and we make it a point to do lunch. Upon meeting Girly earlier this year I immediately recognized her as a kindred spirit and fellow fashionista, albeit with a bit more of an edge (she's a not-quite-twirty). As we lunched on blackened swordfish and grilled veggies, and spurred on by our earlier encounter with mini-voyeur, we reflected on the many things in our lives that change as our perspective changes. (Little boys who are grossed out by lingerie will find themselves intrigued in years to come.) For instance:
- Leg shaving. As little girls we could hardly wait till we were old enough to shave our legs (we even practiced with popsicle sticks and daddy's shaving cream). As girls in our twirties we pray for someone to invent a way to keep the encroaching forest at bay; preferably something that does not involve surgical implements, intense pain that requires anesthesia, or potions that dissolve the top three layers of skin.
- Lingerie. Remember your first 'training' bra? What were we in training for? I've been trying for years to train these bosoms to stand at attention but they are determined to point south. Our mothers endured years of self-imposed steel-reinforced torture in the form of brassieres that looked like mini-volcanoes, and girdles (with the little hook thingies for hosiery) that took a full twenty minutes to squeeze into and were meant to keep your wobbly bits from wobbling. My only response is TGFL (thank goodness for Lycra!) Love my Spanx!
- Hair. If you are lucky enough to have a head full of natural curls, all you want is to find a salon that does Japanese straightening. If you have silky, shiny Pantene-commercial hair, you will willingly cough up hundreds of dollars annually for a perm. Brunettes want to be blonde, blondes want to be fiery red and redheads want highlights. Go figure...
I guess it's all part of our feminine nature and that's what I love most about being a girl! Change is inevitable, so why not make the most of it.
Best things about being a little girl:
- Summer vacation lasted the entire summer.
- Saturday morning cartoons. (Josie & the Pussycats, the Superfriends, Scooby Doo)
- Parents paid for everything. (Unfortunately, this went hand in hand with actually having to wear the clothes that my mom bought me. Get hives thinking about the "Annie" phase, complete with scary Brillo perm.)
- Playing dress-up with my mom's clothes and makeup. (Never a good idea to put lipstick on the dog.) Developed passion for really great quality cosmetics.
- Hot breakfasts, nutritious and creative brown-bag lunches, cookies and milk after school, three course dinners nightly, all planned and prepared by world's best Mom. (Also, being able to eat anything at any time and not having to worry about it appearing on my hips the next morning.)
- The anticipation of holidays. Making Valentines in January, planning my Halloween costume in August, starting my Christmas list in February (and never being able to get to sleep on Christmas Eve), actually being excited about another birthday.
- No money worries (that only lasts till you are a teenager and in need of cosmetics and fashionable clothing; then you start to worry about the next babysitting gig and how much they will actually pay you to watch their tv, eat their snacks, talk on their phone and maybe remember to put their kids to bed).
Best things about being a big girl (as in grown-up, not Amazonian):
- Summer vacation in southern Italy (some day).
- Style network, fashion television, Friends reruns, Desperate Housewives.
- Get to choose my own clothes (unfortunately, I have to pay for them myself too). Gone are the days of Garanimals and Mary Janes, except for these darling little numbers!
- Designer jeans -- forever and always!
- Getting flowers, chocolates and sparklies for Valentines Day, birthdays, or just because.
- Sassy sandals, posh pumps, fabulous flats, wonderful wedges, beautiful boots, sexy slingbacks, really fun rainboots (Rafe is sooo chi-chi!)
- The anticipation of holidays. What to wear to a fun Halloween party (think slinky and sexy, not warty and witchy); starting my Christmas list in August (and my Christmas shopping too!) Still celebrate birthdays, just stop counting at twirty.
- Owning, and decorating, my very own absolutely-too-darling-for-words condo.
- Being a girl!
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